Light
by Sexy Bookworm
Summary: After returning to Gallagher Academy with an unconscious Mr. Solomon, Zach realizes that he is in love with Cammie. In addition, Cammie's mother also realizes this, and offers Zach some unusual advice and comfort. Takes place during OTGSY.
1. Chapter 1

Note: This little oneshot takes place during _Only the Good Spy Young_, back at Gallagher, while Cammie is still unconscious after the tombs. It's in Zach's P.O.V. and I hope you like it! I tried to balance angst-seventeen-year-old-boy-spy, and I hope I did it successfully! But, I think you should tell me if I did ok…in a review. Seriously, they are like drugs. Or how I imagine drugs would be. Can't say I've ever done them (although I have received offers). What I haven't received offers for, is to buy the rights to Ally Carter's books. So, as of now, I don't own the Gallagher Girls or super sexy Zach.

"_The price of love is loss, but still we pay, we love anyway."_ –Next to Normal, Light

The light was harsh, and I kind of just wanted to cover my eyes and disappear. After everything…after Cammie, finding the notebook, the fire…I had to admit, I was slightly dazed. Could you really blame me? I know- I am a highly trained…_something._ But still, these last few days were enough to screw with anyone's head (and the painkillers the person who wrapped my arm slipped me probably didn't help). Life is never going to be the same. I mean, I've known this for a while, but it seemed like the moment the tomb went up in flames it finally solidified. Partly because the "good side" had Jon Solomon's notebook (at this point, I know no "good" or "bad", just "them" and "us", or rather "them" and "me"). This little piece of evidence, in tandem with Mathew Morgan's journal, was going to reveal some long hidden pieces of the intricate puzzle called the Circle. Slowly but surely, this mystery was being unraveled.

The second reason that life had changed for good was in the moment that the tomb went up in flames, I realized I was (this is hard to say, because admitting it makes it real) in love with Cameron Morgan.

Let me tell you, this is _really_ inconvenient. Nonetheless, it was undeniable. In the instant I had shot the explosives, I realized I hadn't just wanted to say "goodbye" to this brilliant girl who was always (unnecessarily) doubting herself. I had wanted to say a million other things, but the most crushing of these things left unsaid were, "I love you."

I loved Cameron Morgan. I loved the way she was so well rounded, but humble enough to mistake it for being bland. There are very few girls in the world who can pull off being intelligent, beautiful, humble, and funny all at the same time. But most of all, I loved the way she loved. How despite losing a father, nearly being kidnapped several times, and being a young spy in training, she still managed to care unconditionally for her mother, aunt, teachers, classmates, grandparents, Solomon, roommates, and maybe even me.

I came to this realization while sitting in a highly uncomfortable chair in the Gallagher infirmary, shortly after arriving with an unconscious Solomon. My scraped right arm was bandaged, and I was still covered in soot. After I had shot those explosives, I hadn't had much time to think-until now. Between dragging Solomon out of the tomb to getting to Gallagher to…just everything, I hadn't had much time to think about the look in Cammie's eyes when I shot those explosives.

Because what scared me most of all, was that she might have felt the same way about me. Time and time again, people who cared about me got hurt (of course, there weren't that many people who cared, but still). Cammie, was not someone I wanted to see hurt in any way, shape, or form. I wanted to take her, run away with her, hide her in a bunker…but even then, Cammie would find trouble. Despite being "invisible" she was terribly good at attracting danger.

My mind was foggy, and all I wanted was to run, to sit in the middle of the floor in the fetal position, to see Cammie, for the Circle to be caught… I wanted things to be simple again. Or, to be technical, as simple as my life ever had been, because I was pretty sure my definition of simple wasn't the same as the dictionary's definition.

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself as I stared in an exhausted daze at the wall opposite of me. That was how Mrs. Morgan found me. In the harsh infirmary light, I couldn't help but marvel about how much she looked like her daughter. They had the same chestnut hair and high cheek bones. Hell, they even walked the same way, and had the same facial expressions. It was evident that by the way Mrs. Morgan studied me that she was comparing me to a kicked puppy.

"This mansion is a historic landmark, you know. There are a lot of better things to stare at than a white wall in an infirmary hallway," said Mrs. Morgan, as she took a seat next to me. I cast a glance her way, and noted that she looked just as tired as I felt (and probably looked too, but I haven't exactly been in contact with many mirrors lately). The sarcasm clearly took her a lot of work to muster up, and I kind of wanted to thank her for it.

Instead, I decided to make a fool of myself. Hey, if you had just gone through hell, you wouldn't exactly be smooth either.

"I want this to be over," was my witty reply, as I sunk a little deeper into the stone chair. The expression on Mrs. Morgan's face seemed to be even more distraught after that comment.

"You and I both, kid. At least now we are one step closer. You did well, you know," Mrs. Morgan replied after a moment, and when she said it, I could tell that she wished she had something more to offer to me than empty compliments.

My whispered reply was, "Not good enough. My mother got away, Solomon is out for the count, and Cammie…shouldn't have been hurt at all," the last part of my reply came out half strangled, and I could tell that Mrs. Morgan had caught on to my current predicament.

Turns out, it's rather hard to hide things from a trained ex-CIA agent. Especially when you're exhausted and painkillers are coursing through you.

"Look, I know you're highly trained, and I know it seems like a bad idea to care about anyone right now, but it's not that simple. Caring is not a voluntary action," advised Mrs. Morgan, sounding much more sure of her words than before. Hum, I guess she did have more experience in the spies-in-love field than in the comforting-awkward-and-drugged teenage-boys-field. Which, upon further reflection, I realized wasn't surprising considering the fact that she ran a school for girls.

"The choice to run away from the person you care about is," I said, as I vaguely wondered why my arm didn't hurt even the slightest bit. I guess that lady really did give me something stronger than Advil…

"Then you end up hurting the person you care about anyway. And isn't the goal of running away to not hurt them? Oh, that just sounded confusing. Look, I know it seems like there is no simple solution, and that's because there isn't. Love, is unavoidable, and in the spy world unfortunate. But just let me say this; I may have lost Mr. Morgan in the end, but loving him was the most satisfying thing I ever did in my life. Love makes everything brighter and happier; the world is suddenly filled with an amazing light. Every moment being with him was worth the pain of losing him," Mrs. Morgan finished her spiel with a grim smile, and my head was spinning. This was all too much. I wasn't supposed to fall for Cammie. Solomon wasn't supposed to be unconscious. I wasn't supposed to be receiving advice from Cammie's mom. Nothing was going according to plan. I just wanted to go home, but I didn't even know where that was…

I guess I must have drifted off as I was warring with myself, because next thing I know Mrs. Morgan is tapping my good arm gently in an attempt to wake me. I blink tiredly at her, and wish that she had just left me in this awful chair.

"Zach, why don't you relocate? There is an extra bed down the hall. Cammie won't wake until tomorrow morning anyways, and Mr. Solomon…" Mrs. Morgan trailed off, not wanting to say aloud the grim condition Joe Solomon was in, because then it became real. Not unlike me admitting to loving Cammie.

Without a reply, I yanked myself to my feet. I must have appeared rather unsteady, because Mrs. Morgan grabbed my shoulders. As she did this, my cloudy mind made the useless observation that she was taller than Cammie. Slowly, she steered me into a room to my right. Just then it occurred to me that while I was highly trained (and now highly experienced) I was still only seventeen. As Mrs. Morgan gently pushed me toward the white and sterile bed, I couldn't help but wonder if this was how mothers should act. That they should push you toward beds, not away from bullets. But as soon as my head hit that pillow, acts of devotion were the last thing on my mind. Still, I wasn't totally gone. I could still hear Mrs. Morgan say as she left the room, "You have my blessing to go after my daughter, Mr. Goode. Just remember that if you hurt her, I may not give you hell…but her three best friends will. Honestly, I think McHenry, Sutton, and Baxter are a force to be reckoned with."

Then, she gently closed the door to the infirmary room, and I was out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: That awkward moment when the Gallagher Girl fandom is super nice and you feel inspired to write a sequel. Hum, this sounds strangely familiar. Oh yeah! Because it's my life! Besides, in these fleeting days of summer, I don't actually want to finish my AP work or start applying to colleges. That's boring, and not nearly as fun as writing fan fiction. I'm only a senior in high school. I don't have to be responsible…yet.

Now, onto the important stuff that actually relates to this fic and aren't just random facts about my life. Takes place during the spring semester at Gallagher, when Zach avoided Cammie like the plague. It reveals what the hell was going on in his head, and in addition he has a run in with Mrs. Morgan once more, the night before the pigeon scene on the roof that we all squealed during. I almost made him run into Bex or Macy or even Liz, but I figured we needed to keep the common theme of Rachel Morgan going.

"_If you say, 'I'll be alright', I'm gonna' trust you babe, I'm gonna' look in your eyes. And if you say, 'I'll be alright', I'll follow you, into the light._" –Sara Bareilles, Light

Before you even start yelling at me, I need to say that I didn't plan to avoid Cammie for the entirety of the spring semester. It's just…I may have been…just a little bit…scared. I mean, I'm seventeen years old and rather dangerous. And I am in love with a girl. If you've ever loved anyone, I'm sure you're aware of what it's like. It's… even better than the movies describe. Love is happiness and simplicity and complicated and the best thing in the world. And that is why it's so frightening. While love is nice, the thought of being without it is utterly terrifying. Not to mention the fact that love is kind of like being without any kind of weapon, walking into a fight, and trusting your opponent not to kill you. Love, is insanity.

Remember all those times I said I didn't have anything to loose? All of a sudden, I do.

And why yes, I did just use a spy metaphor to describe love. Deal with it. I may be able to admit to my feelings, but I am still a man.

Anyways, despite Mrs. Morgan's lovely advice (which, I was able to hold onto despite being drugged) I still didn't know what to do about Cammie. I get it, love is worth the pain. But how do you tell someone you love them? "Hey, long time no see; sorry I've been avoiding you. I just couldn't figure out how to say I love you. Oh, and then we have the fact that I'm terrified you'll get hurt. Or I'll get hurt. Or everyone will die. You know the usual."

Yeah, somehow I don't think that's going to cut it.

This is what was weighing me down as I stalked the Gallagher Academy. I couldn't sleep, and I had to admit- the school was pretty incredible. It really was a great place for prowling during bouts of insomnia. Lately, sleeping has been an incredibly difficult task. It seems like the closer I get to the end of the school year, the more I worry about telling Cammie how I feel. All of these factors lead to weird dreams involving Mrs. Morgan, Cammie, her roommates, a blowtorch, bright lights, Solomon, and death. Thus, I end up prowling the halls of this historical mansion, wondering if there is such a thing as an easy way to say, "I love you." My only consolation is its Saturday (now Sunday) so I don't have to wake up for anything. If I ever get to sleep, that is.

Currently I am meandering past the infirmary. I paused by Solomon's door, and wished once again that he would wake up. The list of people I trusted was pretty short, but I knew Solomon would have advice on what the hell I should do about a girl called "the Chameleon." I can't help but smile to myself as I realized that we both have romantic troubles with Morgan women.

Speaking of Morgan woman, it was at that moment that I ran into one.

"Well, Zach, nice to see you. Come here often at…one o'clock in the morning?" Mrs. Morgan questioned, as she plopped down in one of the stone chairs in the infirmary hall. From the expression on her face, I could tell I was in for an interesting conversation to say the least. In reply I shrugged, and said, "What can I say? I like to make my rounds. You were right when you said this mansion was an interesting place. Although I do find it rather tragic that all the passages had to be sealed off. Though, of course, I agree with the decision."

Mrs. Morgan smiled her I'm-only-humoring-you smile, that I think all headmistresses have perfected, and quipped, "Speaking of the reason we sealed off those passages, I think we need to have a little chat."

As a spy, I am an adequate actor. So, I feigned a look of innocence and said, "Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Morgan? Is it something about Cammie? Is something wrong?"

I bet Mrs. Morgan expected me to just lay all my cards on the table, like last time. Yeah, well, I'm not on painkillers this time. My mind is in the game!

"Just have a seat," Mrs. Morgan replied with a roll of her eyes. While her eyes indicated light teasing, her tone of voice was as hard as the awful chairs we were sitting in. Nonetheless, I took the seat next to her. What harm could a conversation do? I'd just deny all my feelings, and then continue to pace the halls for the rest of the night.

Mrs. Morgan sighed deeply, and seemed to take a moment to collect her thoughts. Finally, she spoke, "You know, Cammie is my daughter. I know her quite well, and therefore I know you two have been avoiding each other."

"I wouldn't say avoiding, more so having problems being in the same place at-"

"She's worried about you."

And just like that, those four words stopped me. I could count on one hand the number of people who worry about me; who care if I live or die. My own mother…is questionable. Solomon isn't even conscious. And…I just…Cammie cared. All of a sudden, this didn't seem like a game anymore.

"Shit," I swore, as I closed my eyes. How do I end up in situations like this? How do always end up being confronted by Rachel Morgan in this stupid hallway?

"I'm going to pretend that didn't happen, considering it seems silly to scold someone for cursing who is also trained to kill people. But seriously, what's the problem here? In our last conversation in these awful chairs, we established the fact that despite being dangerous and probably ultimately painful, love was worth it. What else is there?" Mrs. Morgan asked, as she shifted her position. Hum, at least I wasn't the only person who realized that these chairs were horrible…moving on, I figured that maybe Mrs. Morgan could help me, and I'm sure Solomon would approve of this…even if I was stripped of my manhood.

"How do you tell someone you care about them?" I inquired, as I picked at the edge of the plain T-shirt I wore. Mrs. Morgan slowly nodded her head and said, "Ok. That's actually a really good point. See, I'm usually giving advice to teenage girls who hardly ever come into contact with boys. This never comes up. Well, I remember the first time a boy told me I loved him. I punched him in the face."

"Really, are you serious?" I asked, now very worried for my physical safety as well as my mental.

"Yes. Of course, I was also in the second grade. But still. All I can tell you, is it needs to be done. And sometimes you don't have to say, "I love you," right away for them to get the message. Actions do speak louder than words. Kissing sure helps to get the point across or Mr. Morgan always asked me to run away with him. Even when he was joking, I couldn't help but be flattered."

I chucked at this picture, and had to admit, it wasn't a bad idea. The Circle couldn't find us if nobody knew where we were.

Mrs. Morgan than dragged me away from my thoughts when she blurted, "You might want to hurry, though. Life is short. You never know when somebody might die. Or end up in a coma."

Sure enough, her eyes drifted to a door across the hall (Joe Solomon's door, to be exact).

"He's going to wake up," I found myself suddenly saying, "He _has_ to."

"Oh Zach…" Mrs. Morgan then looked as if she was about to cry, "You really are seventeen. See, nothing in life is guaranteed. But when you realize this, it really sucks."

"I think I'm well aware of the fact that life sucks," I replied coolly, not appreciating Mrs. Morgan being condescending. I then shifted position, trying to get comfortable, and ended up pulling my legs up to my chest. This really did not help me look older than my physical age of seventeen.

"Did anyone ever tell you that it was ok to be seventeen? Because it is. Nobody is going to hurt you because you're not a total cynic," Mrs. Morgan pointed out, as she smiled at my newfound position.

"Yeah, but they don't really need a reason to hurt me," I admitted, wishing that this conversation could just be over. I wondered if this is what it was like going to a therapist; this sensation of having your emotions ripped out of you and analyzed.

"Cammie wouldn't hurt you on purpose. She cares too much about you."

I couldn't help the genuine smile that appeared on my face at those words. Having someone care about you was actually a very nice feeling, one that I enjoyed thoroughly.

"Finally, you don't look so surly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit with the man who I should have confessed my feelings to. I highly suggest that you go get some sleep. Because one, you look like death. And two, Cammie will probably be up early tomorrow prowling the school, and you don't want to miss her. If I'm not mistaken, you have something to tell her," finished Mrs. Morgan, who then stood up and made her way to Solomon's door. I stood up too, and instantly let out a yawn. After stretching, I turned to walk away, but before I did, I thanked Mrs. Morgan for her advice. "Anytime," she replied with a gentle smile that reminded me too much of Cammie, while slipping into Solomon's room.

I then went off to my own room, where I slept soundly for the first time in a while. For once, my dreams were not moribund, but of soft sandy beaches and brown eyed girls.

Needless to say, I preferred this over blow torches.


End file.
